


Conqueror

by matmattt



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons exists, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragons, Gen, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hierarchy within the dragon community, Injury recorvering, Inspired by books, Lot of blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Someone Help Will Graham, Violent fight between dragons, Will Graham Has Nightmares, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Mess, Will Graham is a dragon, hannibal doesn't know that will knows, lot of death are planned, toxic relashionship with a parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matmattt/pseuds/matmattt
Summary: When Will was four, his mother left without looking back. Thirty years later, she's back more miserable than ever, in dire need for help. If at first, Will is reluctant to let her back into his life, he gives her one last chance, but she doesn't seem to be as innocent as she looks. Demons from her past resurface, and it will be her son's duty to chase them away. At least, that's what she says.
Relationships: Will Graham & Will Graham's Dogs, Will Graham & Will Graham's Father, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Will Graham's Mother
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the story is more or less inspired by the Temeraire series ( Naomie Novik), although there won't be any Aerial Corps or anything. I'm in the process of re-reading the series and this is how Conqueror popped in my mind. Please, read carefully the tags as I'll be updating them regularly, so you'll be warned if this story contains subjects that can be upsetting for you, but rape, domestic violence won't be mentioned in the story. If in Conqueror I will write about an upset subject, I'll warn you in the beginning note and will put a lign in the text so you'll know where the upsetting subject starts and ends.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language and I'm not beta-read so if you notice any mistake or a part that is not well written, don't hesitate to point it out so I'll be able to correct it or explain more clearly
> 
> Without further ado, I wish you a pleasant reading!

Despite the thunder and the rain pitter-pattering on his windows, Will felt at ease. A glass of cheap whiskey in the hand, a book of fishing bait in the other and for once, his mind free of nightmarish vision of gruesome crime scene, he could almost tell he was happy. Of course, the delicious dinner at Hannibal’s and the fire breathing in the hearth was probably helping his mood and Will couldn’t help but sigh in comfort. On the floor above, he could hear the paws and claws of his dogs scratching the wooden floor, and even if he winced at the sound it was a nice distraction not to listen to the storm raging outside.

He felt good tonight like he hasn’t felt in a long time. A belly full to the point Will thought it might explode, a book and a good whiskey in the hands with his feet warming next to the hearth and not a depressing thought to darken his mood, what could he ask for more? Perhaps a good night of sleep? Will smiled. Yeah, a good night of sleep will do nicely to finish the day. He closed his book, took his feet off the coffee table before putting the book there, and finishing his whiskey in one go. He rose, yawned, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, before coming to a halt in the hallway in front of the back door. Someone knocked, and Will could see a vague silhouette on the other side of the door by its window frames.

Will’s eyes adverted to the clock that hang on the wall and raised an eyebrow. It was far too late for someone to knock at his door, except if it was a creep or a killer. He was halfway to the kitchen and if he were quick enough, he could hide hoping for the stranger to get the fuck off.

“Open to me William,” pleaded a feminine voice. “I know you’re here; I can hear your heart.”

Lightning tore the sky apart and all lights suddenly went off. Will squinted as the vague silhouette became clearer in the faint instant the lightning lit her face: bushy hair falling around a sharp face with glowing eyes, and a frail frame. The woman knocked again against his door, this time louder and more insistently.

“Open William!” she begged again, almost banging her fist on the door.

In a few strode, Will had his hand on the handle and he opened the door brutally. The wind came billowing past him, into the hallway and somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Icy raindrops wet his hair, ran down his face and neck, and Will stepped out the front door to let the woman through and as she did so, Will saw her saying something but her words were swallowed by the thunder growling above the house.

He slammed the door shut and turned to face his mother.

“Long time no see,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m glad to see that you grew up into a handsome man.”

“What the hell you are doing in America?” hissed Will, squaring his shoulders and fisting his hands.

His mother’s smile faded from her face, and she sighed. “I know that you weren’t raised in the best of place, but I thought your father learned manners. This is not a way to welcome your mother after a long absence.”

“Dad raised me well thank you very much, but I hardly can tell the same for you!” barked Will who went past his mother, right to the couch where he sat heavily. “What are you doing here? Why _now_?”

“Come on Willy, you’re not an idiot. I’m here to take care of you as a mother should.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re thirty years late,” replied Will. Beside him, the couch sank a bit as his mother sat. “Why now?”

She didn’t reply right away, instead of turning her gaze to the fire dancing in the hearth. “Think, William. Why would I come back after I abandoned you when you were merely old enough to remember me?” she asked in a whisper before turning her face to Will. He quickly averted his gaze somewhere else – to avoid eye-contact, he told himself.

After a few moments of silence, the answer struck him with the force of a slap across his face. “Help,” he hissed. “You want protection because you have nowhere to hide.”

His mother hummed an answer as if the enormity of the situation hasn’t hit her yet.

“And you – do you know that I can’t help you?” asked Will, running a hand in his hair. “And how do you know where I live?”

A tiny smile grazed his mother’s face before she replied. “I visited your father and asked where you live. He told me you could help me,”

 _Of course_ , though Will. The thunder growled again, and all the lights came back to life. “Why should I? I owe you nothing.”

His mother sighed and Will noticed from the corner of his eyes that she was fidgeting with a loose cord of her gown. With closer inspection, she looked downright miserable: her hair wasn’t as shiny and straight as Will remembered when he was a kid, but rather was covered in dirt and looked like dried hay. She had hallow cheeks and a pale complexion, which wasn’t normal for one of her kind, and the gown she wore seemed twice too big to fit her.

“We’ll think about it in the morning,” said Will as he stood. “The bathroom is in the hallway, second door to the left.”

His mother nodded, rose from the couch, and almost fled to the bathroom. When the door slammed behind her, Will heavily sighed and went upstairs to check on his dogs. He found them in the guest room, sprawled on the bed and the floor, chewing and biting their toys. When Will stepped inside the room, fourteen eyes fell on him and all ears perked up.

“We have a guest downstairs,” started Will, “try to stay civil and not to sniff her too much.”

As the dog had already eaten, there was no need for Will to worry for them for the night. But for precautionary measure, he led his dogs downstairs and let them go outside to relieve themselves before going to sleep. The water was running and if the fogging under the door was anything to go by, he wouldn’t have a hot shower in the morning. Once his fury friends were done, he thoroughly dried them from the rain before they went upstairs, Will stayed a bit with them to be sure they went to sleep, gently petting them until he was sure that they were all sleeping.

When he went downstairs, he found his mother in the kitchen, rummaging through his fridge and putting several Tupperwares preciously given by Hannibal on the counter.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” growled Will as he took the Tupperwares and pushed his mother on the side.

“I’m hungry,” she replied with a small voice, following Will’s hands with pleading eyes as he stuffed the Tupperwares into the fridge.

“Well this food isn’t for you,” he said, “when was the last time you ate?”

“Last week. On Monday.”

Will turned to her with a frown on his face and made a quick calculation in his head. Ten days without food and she thought she will be able to shallow the sophisticated food of Hannibal? His mother tried to grab a Tupperware, but he quickly shoved it out her reach. Will couldn’t blame her though, for a hungry stomach is ready to shallow everything to feel a little less empty.

“Sit,” he ordained, “I’ll made you soup.”

His mother obediently sat on the chair and put her hands on the table, following every movement Will made.

“Why do you need help?” he asked after several minutes of silence. It was unlike him to seek conversation instead of comforting himself into the silence.

“You said we’re going to talk about it in the morning.”

“You’re right. How is dad?”

“You don’t call him?”

“Not since he told to fuck off after I got shot in Louisiana.”

“What happened in Louisiana?”

“I got shot. So, how is dad?” When he didn’t get an answer, he turned to his mother who looked ashamed of herself and had her head down, looking at her bitten fingernails. “Something happened to him?”

 _Of course, something happened to him, he’s going on his seventies,_ he though.

“He looked very ill when I saw him.” His mother’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Very ill?” Will went very still, his blue eyes stuck to his mother’s forehead as if he was trying to pierce a hole through it to dissect her brain and check her memories about his father. “like… like what?”

She raised her gaze to cross Will’s and whispered, “It’s perhaps time to pay him a visit.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“It was three months ago.”

Will almost chocked at what she said and quickly turned his back to his mother. Younger, he loved his father. He adored repairing motor ships under his dad’s instruction, going to fishing expedition every two weeks, where there was only the both of them and where they could laugh and brag about nothing and everything. When he got shot in Louisiana and his dad exhorted him to get the fuck from the state as soon as the hospital freed him, Will had left with nothing but anger and bitterness for him. And now, his dad was on his deathbed, probably alone in the cold walls of his old fisherman house. He grabbed a soup can and poured it into a bowl that he put into the microwaves.

 _Maybe he’s already dead, and the last thing you told him was fuck you._ Will blinked away tears and leaned against the counter, looking through the window. The thunder had left but it was still pouring buckets.

“Tomorrow, I’m putting you under the Half-Blood Protection FBI’s Department and I’m off to see dad.”

In the window’s frame, he saw his mother's reflection. At his words, she raised her hand with an alarmed look on her face and she abruptly stood, sending the chair waltzing to the ground. Will turned to her, frowning.

“No, you can’t!” she shouted and went around the table to grab Will by the shoulders and shaking him. “You can’t!” she repeated with a desperate glim in her eyes. “You’ll leave me alone, and I can’t bear to be alone again!”

Will stood still, a bewildered expression on his face before he led his mother to a chair when her legs gave out. “You’ll be under the HBP protection and won’t be alone,” he said, dislodging her hands from his shoulders once she was sat. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Promise me?” she begged, giving him a pleading look. “Promise me you’ll be here.”

“I will.”

And with that, all worry faded from her face and a smile grazed her lips. “Thank you.”

Will straightened up and turned to the microwaves. Seconds later, the soup was ready and with a towel, Will took the bowl and put it in front of his mother with a spoon. She gulped it down quickly and once she was done, she sighed in contentment.

Will took the bowl and the spoon and put them in the dishwasher, and his mother rose from the chair and left the kitchen. He followed her a few moments later and found her leaning toward his fishing baits. As she seemed lost in her observation, Will took the opportunity to change his bedsheets.

“Your father would be proud of you,” his mother suddenly said, but Will kept silent because what was he supposed to say? “You’re a grown-up man, you have a roof above your head and five – no,” she stopped, and Will heard her sniffing the air. “Seven furry friends to keep you company.”

“You can take the bed for the night,” he announced once he was done with the bed and grabbed a pile of fresh clothes he handed to his mother. “For the night.”

After which he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and returned to the kitchen. It was half-past nine, so Alana was most likely not asleep yet. He sent her a quick message, hoping it will be enough.

_Hey Alana,_

_I have a family emergency and have to leave tomorrow. Will you be okay to check on my dogs during my absence?_

Then, he dialed Doctor’s Lecter number, praying he’d fall on the voicemail. After it rang a bit, Will heard a noise from the other side of the line and Lecter’s voice echoed. _Shit_ , Will though.

“Good evening, Doctor Lecter here, how can I assist you ?"

"Er – good evening Doctor, it’s Will. Sorry to call so late, but I wanted you to know that I won’t be able to make it to our session after tomorrow,” he blurted out.

“Did something happen?” Hannibal’s voice didn’t sound displeased, but neither happy to have Will at the phone.

“Family business,” was all Will managed to say, his throat tight.

“We can reschedule our session if it suits you.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to come for a bit but –,” said Will, but stopped when he heard a shriek from the living room and a lot a noise. “Shit – I have to go, Doctor, sorry.”

Will hang the phone, pocketed it, and ran to the living room. Here he discovered his mother ravaging his desk, sending flying al his fishing baits and all the equipment to the ground.

“What the hell you’re doing?” shouted Will, coming behind her mother to grab her by her shoulders and threw her on the bed.

“It stung! It stung!” she cried, showing her forefinger to Will. Leaning toward her, he saw a drop of blood on the finger and he heavily sighed when he understood.

“You stung yourself with a fishing bait and you decide that – that screwing up my stuff is the right thing to do?” asked Will in an icy tone. At least, his mother had the kindness to look ashamed and instead of replying, she grabbed the blanket of the bed and rolled herself in.

“Don’t force yourself to help me tidy up,” he hissed as he turned on his heels and started to gather his stuff. Silence answered him, and he gritted his teeth.

Once he was done, his mother was sound asleep on his bed, rolled in a ball with the blanket tightly wrapped around her. Will stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her, and the crown of black hair around her face. She was still the same when she left him and his dad, but time had engraved its mark on her. White braids of her mingling with the black, crows feet at the corner of her eyes and wrinkles running on her face and hands. Yet, Will couldn’t associate her with the woman that raised him until he was four: where did the smiling woman with rosy cheeks and sun-kissed skin go?

Will shook his head, shut off the light of the room, and threw a log into the chimney to keep the fire alive. Just as he kicked his sockets and covered himself with a plaid smelling dog and whiskey, he heard his mother whispering “Goodnight, Willy dear.”

He didn’t reply and rolled on his side, facing the chimney, watching the flames dancing in the hearth until it died shortly after midnight. Despite the silence of the house, Will stayed awake all night.


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning found a red-eyed and moody Will sitting behind a bowl of steaming coffee. In front of him, his mother was stuffing herself with fruits and toasts covered with jam, sipping from time to time her glass of milk. The dogs were frolicking around them, more than delighted to catch whatever bit of food that fell from the table as if they hadn’t engulfed down their food mere minutes ago.

The rain had stopped in the early hours of the morning, shortly before dawn came, but the sky was still clouded.

Will took a sip of his coffee and cleared his voice before he spoke.

“So,” he started, but his mother paid him no attention. “I still don’t know why you need help.”

At his words, she froze, her mouth hanging open, ready to bite down on the slice of apple held mid-air. She threw a cautious glance toward Will, before closing her mouth and lowering her hand but still clutching the slice of apple. She looked down at her hands, starting to fidget with the end of the shirt Will gave her last night. Will made a note to buy her some clothes on their way to Baltimore because she definitely couldn’t wear again the dirty and holey gown she had last night, and his clothes made her look too small and vulnerable, ready to break down at any moment’s notice.

“I’ve wasted the last thirty years,” she said in a quiet voice, “Many things happened and… and… There’s too much to tell.”

Will frowned. “Lucky for you, I have all my time.” He brought the bowl to his lips and sipped his coffee, not minding the burning kisses it left on his lips and tongue.

She raised her gaze and met Will’s. He raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the amount of fear his mother held in her eyes. “I can’t say it,” she whispered. “Don’t force me to, please.”

“I won’t,” answered Will, taking another sip of his coffee, “But you’ll have to explain why you need help to the HBP agent.”

If he thought his words would appease his mother, then he was wrong because she jumped to her feet and shouted, “No!” before she ran out of the kitchen.

Will swore under his breath, slammed the bowl on the table and he ran after his mother, catching her from behind as she stepped down the porch, and immediately, she trashed like a devil in his arms, growling and _clawing_ at his arms. Behind, he heard his dogs letting out worried sounds. Winston and Buster started barking, and soon the rest of the pack followed, and quickly, the sound became insufferable.

“No!” shouted Will as his mother started to become more erratic, probably because of the barking, “No barking, bad boys! Stop!”

Moving back into the house, he let go of his mother after he kicked the door shut, and immediately, the dogs shut up, all ears perked up. She turned to face him, growling and her eyes shining with tears.

“You can’t force me!” she hissed, her hands forming into fists.

“I said I won’t,” replied Will. “But sooner or later, people will ask questions.”

“But I can’t answer!” This time, his mother sounded more like a petulant child than in distress, and Will sighed.

“Right,” he said, running a hand on his face, and as he did so, he felt a slight cover of sweat covering his brow. “You know what, it’s a matter for later.”

His mother stayed silent a few moments before she returned to the kitchen. Will opened the door to let his dogs out, slumped on the rocking chair and watched his pack frolicking around for a bit from the porch. Then he headed back inside with his dogs, grabbed fresh clothes from his dresser before he went to the bathroom. He spent little time under the shower because as suspected last night, there wasn’t more hot water left for him. As he slipped outside the tub bath, he heard a knock on the bathroom.

“Yes?” he said, grabbing a towel and knotting it around his waist.

“Someone’s been calling you on your phone for the fifth time since you’re in the bathroom,” his mother voice come from the other side of the door, then the familial sound of his ringtone echoed. ” Sixth time now, it’s ringing again.”

Will opened the door ajar and trust his arm outside the room, his hand all open. “Give it to me.”

At this hour of the morning, it was most likely Jack calling him for a new case and Will wasn’t in the mood to slip into a murderer’s mind– he wasn’t in the mood for a lot of thing, lately. Always bone-tired or irascible, there was barely an in-between and everyone seemed to walk on eggs around him – not that he could blame them, really. If he self-diagnosed himself, he would probably say something along the lines of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

When his mother gave him the phone, he mumbled a thanks before closing the door and unlocking the screen. He growled when he saw that indeed, it was Jack who was calling. He accepted the call and stuck the mobile at his ear.

“Next time you don’t answer at the second call, I’m sending a unit to drag you by the ass to my office,” growled Jack from the other side of the line.

“Do you know what hour it is?” answered Will, feeling his headache coming back in full force. Perhaps one pill only won’t be enough – not with Jack.

“You’re consulting for the FBI, so I expect you to be ready anytime.”

“Not at –” he looked at the hour on his screen,” half-past six, an hour where I should be sleeping. Where _you_ should be sleeping.”

Will heard Jack sighing. “We have a new killer on our hands,” he announced point-blank.

“Put someone else on this one, Jack. I’m taking a leave,” he replied in the same tone, jamming the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. He grabbed his underwear and bent down to slip a leg in it, then the other, while trying not to let the phone fall on the floor.

“What?”

“I’m taking a leave. Family business,” he said, putting on his pants. “Should be back in a week.”

“Family business?” repeated Jack before he went silent for a few instants. “Fine, then. I’ll send you the photos and the forensic report, and I want to know what you think as soon as possible.”

“There’s no way I’m working while I’m visiting family,” retorqued Will. He put the call on speaker and placed the phone on the edge of the sink. He grabbed his shirt, put it on, and buttoned it. “Slipping into a killer’s mind is not a thing to do around family,”

“I don’t care Will. I want this killer caught before Lounds have the occasion to spit on us on Tattle Crime.”

“You should put Alana on this,” suggested Will as he left the bathroom. He went to the kitchen and had a nice discovery to see that his mother had cleaned the table, “Or Doctor Lecter. I’m not the only one who can understand killers.”

“But it’ll take longer,” retorqued Jack. “And I don’t have time.”

“My answer is still the same. I’m taking a leave and it means no work, no FBI until I return.”

Will ended the call and before he pocketed the phone, he saw that he had received a message from Alana during the night.

_I’ll be happy to oblige, Will._

Will slightly smiled: it was settled, then. He knew his dogs would be happy to see Alana for once, even more if she’d bring homemade threats – a secret recipe even Will didn’t have access to.

He left the kitchen and went to the living room, where his dogs were sprawled all over the place. His mother wasn’t here, so he suspected she was on the porch. From under his bed, he grasped his luggage and filled it with clothes. By the time he was done, the sky had considerably darkened, and the wind had risen. Will grabbed his luggage by its straps, went to the door and saw his mother sitting on the rocking chair. She was slowly swinging back and forth, her eyes closed and a small smile on her face.

“It’s time to go,” called Will, after he bided his goodbye to his dogs, kissing each of them on their forehead and getting licks on the face in return.

“Already?” Her mother opened her eyes and rose before her smile widened. “You’re really a handsome man, Will.”

He didn’t reply, instead grabbed his jacket from the coat-hanger, took his coat and slide it under his arm before he ventured went outside. He handed the coat to his mother, who took hold of it with a bewildered expression. Under surprised Will’s gaze, she brought it to her face and rubbed it against her cheek.

“It’s soft,” she whispered. “So soft…”

“A friend of mine bought it to me,” said Will. “But you can keep it.”

“Really?” He nodded. “Thank you Will, I’ll cherish it.”

“You’re supposed to wear it.”

His mother laughed, then put on the coat. “It’s very warm. Your friend treats you very well, I’d like to meet him one day.”

“Perhaps. But be warned; he’s a pompous ass.”

“I’ve dealt with worse!” His mother laughed again, and this time, Will joined her.

He locked the door and slipped the key under the doormat for Alana. Followed by his mother, he went to the car and opened it. He put his luggage in the trunk, then went to sit in behind the steering wheel. His mother was already sat at his side and seemed eager for the car to start.

The travel from Wolf Trap to Baltimore went smoothly. Neither son nor mother shared words, instead listening to the music blasted by the radio. On the way, Will had stopped to a small shop to buy clothes for his mother, and she changed in the toilet of the room while he filled up his car with gasoline.

It started to rain when Will neared Baltimore, and it was pouring when he parked in front of the Half-Blood Protection FBI’s department. Even though the FBI offices were twenty minutes northwest of the city, the HPB department was in the middle of Baltimore, where it was easier to go for the dozens of people who went to ask for help every week.

Will cut the engine, got out of the car and hurried to the building, his mother close behind him. Pushing the door open, he stepped out the front door to let his mother through, before following her.


End file.
